The Black Cat Follies
by Ms. Kreatopita
Summary: Randomness and hilarity ensue as the characters of Black Cat portray some of literature's most famous fairy tales! FINALLY UPDATED! We're going to Wonderland! Warning: Extremely random and plenty of OOC moments. Very different from Ms. K's other stories!
1. Snow Walker and the Seven Sweepers

**Disclaimers: I do not own Black Cat or Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. Don't ask me how I got the idea for this…Ok, I'll tell you anyhow. I was watching Snow White one day and thought, "There needs to be a collection of BC related fairy tales". I'll warn you before hand that the writing style for this will be **_**a lot **_**more random and different from my previous works. The cast will differ with every tale, so enjoy!**

**The Black Cat Follies**

Snow Walker and the Seven Sweepers

_**The Cast:**_

**Snow Walker- **Rinslet Walker

**Prince Charden - **Charden Flamberg

**Evil Queen Creed- **Himself

**Magic Mirror- **Doctor

**Hunter- **Maro

_**The Sweepers:**_

**Black Cat – **Train Heartnet

**Smoky – **Sven Vollfied

**Cranky –** Annette

**Boastful – **Woodney

**Sleazy –**Tanya

**Sweetie – **Saya

**Tiny – **Eve

Once upon a time, there lived a pretty young lady whose eyes were as blue as sapphires, her hair as ridiculously purple as a violet, and her mind as blank as snow. Keeping the latter part in mind, it is only logical that upon finding this girl, Queen Creed (who, mind you, was indeed a dude) decided to name the child Snow Walker. Queen Creed soon saw, though, that as she grew older, Snow Walker was surpassing his feminine beauty. What was a queenly man to do? The Queen visited a local estate sale held by a certain Sephelle (who will appear in a later story, _Beauty and the Belze_) and bought himself a dandy mirror that contained the spirit of a doctor named Doctor. He was one hell of a transvestite fashion guru, and everyday for who knows how many years, Queen Creed would ask…

_Mirror, mirror, on the wall in the hall_

_Who's the most feminine of them all?_

And the mirror would answer, with a grunt and in a tired voice, "You are by far the most feminine of them all, Queen Creed." And sometimes he would add, "Were you by any chance dropped on your head as a baby?" At which point the Queen would threaten the Doctor in the mirror with a sledgehammer.

But one day, after the zillionth time of being asked this, the mirror decided to have a little fun. Rather than give his usual reply, he stated instead, "No, you sick, twisted man! There exists a woman who is waaaaaaaay more feminine than you will ever be. Her eyes are as blue as sapphires, her hair as ridiculously purple as a violet, and her mind as blank as snow."

"Wait, wait, wait, don't tell me…" Queen Creed tried to guess. "Is it…Carson Kressley?"

"No, it's…"

"Ryan Seacrest?"

"No, he's straight."

"Lance Bass?"

"Hell no!"

"Cojo?"

"NO, NO, NO, NO! It's Snow Walker, dang it! The guys in the castle next door are nuts about her, especially Prince Charden!"

Now seething, Queen Creed called upon his most trusted servant, Maro the hunter, and after a good, long, screech, he ordered the following. "A Caesar salad and a Diet coke." While he ate, he then ordered Maro to take Snow Walker into the woods, body slam her to death, yada yada yada. "Then, as proof that you've killed her, I want her…lingerie!"

Maro and the mirror shivered. "But, that would be worse than murder, my Queen!" objected Maro. "And plus, that's just downright wrong and perverted!" He then waved a banner that protested against woman abuse. In response, Queen Creed took his invisible sword and poked the fat oaf out the window and into that magical wishing well, thus clogging it.

* * *

Later…

Snow Walker picked wildflowers as Maro sat against a tree and read the latest copy of Fitness Today magazine. All the while, the girl sang a merry tune…

_Life's gonna suck when you grow up_

_When you grow up, when you grow up_

_Life's gonna suck when you grow up_

_It sucks pretty bad right now!_

After a while, this got pretty annoying, so Maro decided to creep up behind Snow Walker, as slowly and carefully as a fat man could. Finally, when he was a mere foot away from the girl, he leapt in the air and let out a victory cry for some unknown reason. This made Snow Walker gasp in fear and yell as the blubbery mass hovered overhead. Then, just at the last moment, she rolled away, causing Maro to create a crater that almost penetrated the earth's mantel. Frightened out of her wits, Snow Walker ran into the conveniently placed Sherwood Forest and didn't look back. Maro climbed out of the crater and, seeing her escape, merely shrugged and walked to Victoria's Secret to buy some lingerie to fool Queen Creed with.

* * *

Meanwhile, Snow Walker kept running, past bubbling streams and hallucinogenic mushrooms, past a confused Robin Train and Little Sven (_Robin Train and his Merry Cats_), and past a sign that said "Danger: 5000 ft. drop". Right before she was about to plummet to her death, Snow Walker spotted a cute little cottage nestled in the woods. Curious as usual, she tiptoed (for no obvious reason) towards the house and knocked. No one answered, so she lifted the doormat to find the key, and in a few seconds, she was in the house.

The place was kind of shabby. Having been brought up by a he-queen who always kept the castle in tune with the hottest trends, this cottage seemed, well, cottagey. There was not much space, but enough to hold a table for seven people, a TV surrounded by seven couches, and a refrigerator with seven colors of sticky notes slapped all over it, (including one big white sheet that looked like a list of debts). Then Snow Walker went upstairs and saw two bedrooms and two bathrooms on opposite sides of the hallway. A pink and light green bedroom held four beds with the names Cranky, Sleazy, Sweetie, and Tiny engraved on the headboard, and a blue bedroom held three beds with the names Black Cat, Smoky, and Boastful. Tired beyond belief for some reason (or perhaps it was the effect of one of the random pills she found in the medicine cabinet), she lay herself across the bed of Smoky and fell asleep.

* * *

Later that evening, two cars and a motorcycle pulled into the driveway of the cottage. From one car emerged a young man with brown hair and a bell around his neck, a sleek-looking gentleman smoking a cigarette, and a young girl with blond hair. A lady in a kimono, a girl in a waitress's outfit, and an older woman got out of the second car, and a notably rotund man scrambled off the motorcycle. The seven of them filed into the house one by one and beheld a startling sight.

Someone forgot to put up the milk after drinking it!

Once the shock wore off, and after Boastful boastfully admitted to leaving the milk out, the seven Sweepers decided to relax; Black Cat, Sweetie, and Tiny popped a movie into the DVD player and began to watch it (more than likely it was Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure) while Sleazy and Cranky got the sudden urge to knit, forcing Boastful to hold the yarn as they worked. In the midst of all this, poor tired Smoky went upstairs to take a nap. He was so exhausted that he did not notice someone was already there…

About an hour later, Snow Walker opened her eyes and looked around. She was still in the cottage, still lying on the bed she had plopped on. Only one thing had changed…

Snow Walker couldn't move. She squirmed and wriggled, but a pair of strong arms pulled her back. Craning her head around, Snow Walker saw that a handsome, green-haired man held her in a bearhug as he slept. Relieved and strangely aroused by this, she started snuggling closer to him when a random thought came to her.

_Wait…Snow Walker is supposed to be a maiden, right? Dang, what does that mean again? Do I lose my maidenhood if a man beside Queen Creed hugs me, or is that when a dude kisses me…Hold on, I know this…Omigod! What if hugging is how people make babies?! _Snow Walker's obvious lack of sex ed. caused her to enter a state of confusion until the door opened and six people stared dumbfounded at the bed.

Black Cat gasped. Cranky shook her head in disgust. Boastful somehow got a boombox and started playing "Super Freak" for some very odd, perverse reason. Sweetie ran outside and stuck her head in a brick oven. Sleazy and Tiny then proceeded to beat the crap out of Smoky, all the while arguing over whose man he was. Snow Walker just watched Smoky's clobber session in amazement.

After a while, Black Cat got a gavel and called the Sweepers to order (technically to the kitchen table). Thus started the debate of what was to be done with Snow Walker.

"Can't I at least know your names?" asked Snow Walker beforehand.

"Eh, whatever," replied the young bell-wearing man. "I'm Black Cat, and that's Smoky," glaring at the smoking man who had almost had hug-babies with Snow Walker, "Cranky, Boastful, Sleazy, Sweetie," he looked at Sweetie with heart eyes, "and Tiny. She doesn't talk, so Smoky is her official translator!"

"Don't you guys have real names?"

"Shut up!" yelled Cranky in a cranky voice. "I say we fatten this girl up until she's plump and then cook her!"

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Cranky, that's not until _Rinsel and Gretrain_" reminded Black Cat.

"Nah, we have to grind her bones to make our bread!" stated Boastful.

"Wait until _Eve and the Beanstalker_" testified Sweetie.

"Let's brand her with a scarlet letter for messing with my Smoky-poo!" suggested Sleazy. Tiny turned her hand into a frying pan and smacked Sleazy over the head.

"That's not even a fairy tale," protested Boastful.

Soon enough, it turned into a heated argument about torture methods, fairy tales, and tacos. Things were starting to get out of hand, so Smoky pulled out his momma's shotgun ("Big Sleuth on Campus" reference) and fired a shot in the air, causing a chandelier to fall on his head.

"Look, all this bickering will get us nowhere, except perhaps the Guinness Book of World Records," reasoned Smoky. "Now, I say we go along with the typical solution that works for every some-chick-comes-to-a-cottage-seeking-shelter-from-her-evil-man-queen dilemma. We should let her stay for a while." Grudgingly, everyone agreed.

* * *

_Mirror, mirror, on the way_

_Don't I look sexy in this lingerie?_

Use your imagination to visualize how Queen Creed looked in his new lingerie. Alright, got it in your head? Doesn't it disgust you?...Ok, moving on. So Queen Creed tried showing off the Magic Mirror, who smartly placed a paper bag over his head and repeated "La la la la la la la la la la la!". This was annoying Maro as well, so he finally snuck up behind the Queen and trapped him in a muumuu. Trying to struggle out of his concealing prison, he noticed something attached to the lingerie. It looked like…

"_**Who dares to leave the price tag on their panties within my realm?!**_" raged Queen Creed, tearing the flowery muumuu of his body and proceeding to rip the tag to examine it. "Victoria's Secret…_**Maro, you cuddly fat man, you deceived me!!!**_" Tears started to stream down the Queen's face. On cue, the random white cat popped out from nowhere and started to play the world's tiniest violin. "You gave me a reason to love again in my lifetime. I thought I could trust you, Maro; I thought you cared for me! But now I see that this was just a façade all along, just a foolish reverie that, like all good things, must pass on. Brokenheartedly, I will mourn for the days when seeing your voluminous rolls of fat gave me great joy; grievingly, I will look back upon the happiness I felt knowing that the blubbery, morbidly obese elephant called Maro was once mine. Oh, how you've changed; how your heart has hardened along with your arteries clogged with cholesterol. Am I right to assume that the world truly is cold, with no room for a feminine, pretty he-queen?"

The Magic Mirror lifted his paper bag a couple of inches and remarked, "What about Snow Walker, dipqueer?"

Queen Creed's premenstrual syndrome-induced soliloquy was halted. The queen regained his composure in record time, the white cat dropped through a trapdoor into the bowels of Hell, and Maro rode his new Bentley to the local discotheque. Then he answered, "Junior high, my dear doctor, we kill her!"

"It's 'elementary'," corrected the Magic Mirror.

"Shaddup!" snapped Queen Creed, "I like to think on a higher level!"

* * *

That night, and for the next plothole after, Snow Walker lived with the Seven Sweepers. Together, they enjoyed a Bruce Springsteen concert, saw Casino Royale in theaters, went skiing on a random mountain that happened to be home to one of the most insane bears on the face of the planet, saved Boastful from becoming bear chow, and attempted to arrest the bear for arson on three counts and negative fourth degree murder on sixteen accounts. Of course, the bear's lawyer was a sly fox, and convinced the hare-brained judge to drop all charges. A few weeks and a couple thousand pinecones in debt later, the seven sweepers plus Snow Walker were back at the cottage, chillin'. On one particular day, Black Cat and Boastful were debating the proper size for a butter squash while seeing who could stuff the most crackers in their mouth; Cranky and Sweetie sat at the table with Snoop Dog, Anderson Cooper, and Snufalufagus, who were all enjoying a cup of tea and participating in a lively discussion about toenails; Tiny watched Spike TV. This unwittingly normal unusualness was broken by a scream, a bang, a crash, a boom, a creak, a thud, a wham, a shatter, and the random mooing of a cow, in respective order. Then, Sleazy stormed into the living room, tugging Snow Walker and Smoky by the ear.

"**I knew it!**" shouted she at the top of her lungs."I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! **Snow Walker was trying to have eye-contact babies with Smoky!!!**"

Everybody stared at the insane waitress woman for forty-seven silent seconds before Sweetie suggested, "Bowling, anyone?"

Everyone stampeded to the door in a mad dash; Anderson Cooper even dueled Snufalufagus with Yu-Gi-Oh cards to see who got shotgun in Smoky's car. In clouds of dust and Snuffy fur, the two cars and the motorcycle departed, with Snoop being his druggie self and trying to fly there. Alas, he fell off the roof and died.

So Snow Walker was left all alone at the house, with the dead rapper rotting in the front yard. She went back inside the house, but just as she had locked the door and walked away from it, the doorbell rang. Snow Walker half-expected to see a Snoop Dog zombie who had somehow arisen from the dead, and the other half expected to see a man dressed up as a woman in a short green dress, jewelry, and diva sunglasses, who carried a Mary Kae sales display and had the strikingly familiar features of Queen Creed. Her latter half was satisfied.

"Good day, darling!" greeted the sexually confused sales-…it. "My name is, uh…Creeda! Might I interest you in our newest lines of lipstick and gloss?" Creeda opened a big box that shot multiple compartments out. "This week, we're featuring our most luscious lip shades, including 'Thermometer Mercury Red', 'Glossy Biologically Hazardous Blood', 'Raw Diseased Beef Crimson', and 'Those-Pretty-Red-Berries-Yo'-Mamma-Told You-Not-To-Eat-Or-Else-You'll-Die Red'. All made with only the finest ingredients of their kind!"

Snow Walker examined this display with keen interest, picking up one product, squinting to read the labels before placing it three centimeters away from its proper place. Creeda kept smiling and observing the deliberation, while hissing every few minutes, "Pick one, dammit!"

Finally, Snow Walker picked up a bottle of perfume and sniffed the scratch-and-get high sticker. "I love this! I'll take it!"

"Excellent!" squealed Creeda ecstatically. "That's one of the best perfumes in our line: Supa Dupa Cawn-sun-ter-ated Opium Perfume and Mouthwash! The men will go nuts, and believe me, it is so worth dying for!"

"Really now?" she glanced at the rotting carcass of Snoop Dog. "Then I think he owes you for one of these, then?"

Creeda winced as flies swarmed the dead rapper. "Uh, sure…tell you what, keep that as a gift and I'll hack Snoop Dog's account later and charge him!" The bottle of Supa Dupa Cawn-sun-ter-ated Opium Perfume and Mouthwash was shoved into Snow Walker's hands before Creeda ran off and made his escape in the Batmobile, later joining the circus.

Now Snow Walker went back inside the house, gleaming with joy at her new item. She should try it out, so she did a quick breathalyzer test, and upon discovering that her blood alcohol content was 7.5, she decided to freshen her breath with the mouthwash. All she did was sniff the concoction, then stand there for a minute. Nothing happened. Unless falling to the ground unconscious is something worth noting.

* * *

Later that evening, the Seven Sweepers returned home in their vehicles. Anderson Cooper had walked home because he had lost dramatically at strip poker, and Snuffy decided to go clubbing with Grover. Thusly, the seven opened the door and beheld a frightful sight.

Someone had forgotten to feed the fish!

Hurriedly, Sleazy ran to the other room to feed the poor fishes, and right when she left, Black Cat tripped over something in the middle of the floor, and it took his ADHD brain a couple of seconds to realize that this something was Snow Walker.

"Oh my god!" he cried, causing Boastful to drop a stack of GQ centerfolds he was carrying onto the floor. Cranky and Sweetie ignored him and continued to play Scrabble in Albanian, but Tiny wordlessly bent down and assisted him. Curiously, she picked one up and unfolded it; her reaction did not falter as she stared at it, placed that one in a pile, picked another up, and unfolded it, only to repeat the process.

Smoky ran over to Black Cat and reeled back in despair. "Good gravy lumps! She's been poisoned! Someone placed her under a spell that will only secede upon being kissed!" He kneeled down and ran his fingers through Snow Walker's purple hair, gently lifting her head in his arms. "Oh, as a gentleman and a Sweeper, I would happily risk my wellbeing and a thousand lashings from Sleazy, if only to break this spell!"

And with this, he began to passionately make out with the comatose Snow Walker. He fell on top of her, using his tongue in exquisite ways and touching her in a non-fairytale-friendly manner. Black Cat started to feel very funny, giving him the sudden urge to spirit Sweetie away to a local hotel; Boastful had assembled a full-fledged film crew in a matter of five seconds to capture every moment; Cranky just shook her head at the idiocy playing around her; Sleazy walked into the room and had a heart attack, asthma episode, seizure, hot flash, and a concussion all at the same time; Tiny observed in silence, sometimes glancing back and forth between the GQ and the current spectacle.

After five minutes, only Cranky had the decency to walk over and peel Smoky off the passed out Snow Walker and state simply, "I don't think you're her true love, hot shot."

Just then, they heard the sound of clomping coming from outside. Sweetie ran to the door exclaiming, "That must be Prince Charden coming on his valiant steed to awaken Snow Walker!" Everyone else ran to the door and hurried out, except for Smoky, who would have tried to steal another kiss had Sleazy not gagged and bound him and put him in a strait jacket, pulling him behind her.

As Prince Charden neared their little cottage, the Seven Sweepers were disappointed to find that he rode no valiant steed; rather, he galloped on his invisible horse, followed by Kyoko happily clacking two halves of a coconut together. Nobly and stupidly he rode until he came to a halt and parked his invisible horse in the driveway. He supposedly dismounted and strode towards the house, with Kyoko strapping the coconuts into a coconut bra and following behind him.

"Be there a maiden who has fallen under the spell of Queen Creed?" inquired Prince Charden.

Black Cat scratched his head. "Yeah, I think so…we're just not sure about the 'maiden' part anymore." Everyone glared at Sven in his strait jacket.

"No matter," resolved Prince Charden, "I have searched the world for my one true love, and after several one-night stands, I bid the good lord grant me a soul mate in Snow Walker, whose eyes are as blue as sapphires, her hair as ridiculously purple as a violet, and her mind as blank as-."

"Oh, you mean the chick who OD'ed and passed out on the floor?" interrupted Boastful very bluntly. "Front room, to the left."

Single filed, the ninesome reentered the cottage and stood over Snow Walker, sprawled out on the floor. Prince Charden kneeled down and gazed longingly at her, then slowly took of his glasses. Everyone gasped. He then lowered his head and planted a single, sweet kiss on the lips of Snow Walker.

The somewhat-maiden's eyes fluttered open and stared at Prince Charden's blue eyes. So this was her true love! Oh joy! Oh happy day! Oh…"Crap, I'm hungry!" were the first words out of her mouth.

Upon her revival, all seven Sweepers cheered. Charden picked up Snow Walker and carried her out the front door. Six of the Seven Sweepers partied and gave good wishes to the new couple on their way out, (Smoky had turned emo and was crying in his room). Then, after making a quick stop at Burger King, Prince Charden and Snow Walker rode their invisible horses back to the royal castle to get married.

…_**And they lived happily ever after.**_


	2. Beauty and the Belze

**Disclaimers: I do not own Black Cat or Beauty and the Beast. Nor do I own Il Divo or any of the popular fantasy franchises et al. However, I totally came up with the idea for the Il Divo-cycle. So nyah!**

Beauty and the Belze

_**The Cast:**_

**Sephelle – **Sephiria Arks

**The Belze – **Himself

**Linston **– Li Xiao Lin

**Nizzle Sizzle – **Nizer Bruckheimer

**Cuckold Clock – **Beluga J. Heard

**Pothead**– Jenos Hazard

**Sephelle's Father** - Karl

* * *

Once upon a time, a well-known inventor lived in the bustling town of Chronos with his only daughter, Sephelle. Sephelle had grown to be extremely beautiful, witty, and smart; the only problem, though, was her nerdiness. She loved things that usually personified the typical zit-faced teen or thirty-something year old bachelor. Some of her favorite fetishes included Star Wars, Marvel superheroes, Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft, Monty Python, and Battlestar Galactica. And don't even get her started with Lord of the Rings, man. One time she spent two hours straight debating with Frodo himself about the differences between hobbits and dwarves, and she won…but that's a different story.

Anyways, one day, garbed in a "Spock Is My Homeboy" shirt and feminine jeans, Sephelle had just come out of the comic book store with the latest edition of X-Men and a pack of Magic: The Gathering cards in hand. She put her pace and direction on autopilot as she cracked open the comic book and immersed herself in the newest "Rogue's Pregnant! Wolvie, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Magneto, Toad, Lionel Richie, and Larry Birkhead Fight for the Paternal Rights!" arc. However, even the automated systems humans think they have within them fail at times. This was not one of those instances…Oh wait. Yeah, it was.

Intently Sephelle read, her eyes scanning every page rather than focusing on the road. Before she knew what happened, the nerdy Sephelle tripped and was flying through the air, straight towards a fountain ornamented with a cherub leaning over and barfing water into the pool. Sephelle's world went in slow motion, which was awkward because everything else around her continued at normal pace. Panic shot through her mind. _Holy Conan! My comic is going to get soaked, and it won't be a collector's item anymore! _

"**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**" she yelled in a drawn out, disturbingly low voice as she inched through the air in the fountain's direction. Just as the tip of her comic book touched the edge of the water, a hand tugged on the back of Sephelle's "Spock Is My Homeboy" shirt. Things returned to normal speed for her just in time to land flat on her butt. Looking up, she saw that her savior was none other than Linston, the Village Idiot who had taken over the position of Village Stud while Sven lurked in his underground domain beneath the town theater (from the independent story _The Phantom of the IBI_ coming to a fanfiction site near you!) . The Village Studiot, therefore, gleamed with pride at having saved a damsel from a wet t-shirt incident, (or so he thought, the brazen Linston was supposed to have perverted thoughts like that).

"Oh, my darling Sephelle," cooed Linston as he took the woman's hand to kiss, but completely missed and smooched her limited edition Pac-Man watch. "Now that I have unnecessarily saved your life, I'm sure you will do like all the other fantasy characters do and marry me!"

Kittens chirped. Not sure how, but it had to be one of the most embarrassing silences since the Silent Age of the Silent Silents. Unhurriedly, Sephelle glanced at Linston, then her slobbery Pac-Man watch, then at Linston again, then at the members of Il Divo who were riding a bicycle built for four, then at her Pac-Man slobbery watch again. Trembling, she got to her feet, her hands balled into fists.

With a "Kamehame ha!" and a **Smack!** the Village Studiot sailed thirty-seven feet into a conveniently placed pile of manure. Sephelle ran the rest of the way home as Linston tried to arise from the mound of poo, but since it was a nice, humid day, the feces ensnared him like a fly on fly tape. The people of Chronos walked by, sneering, cringing, and guffawing at the embarrassing spectacle.

Just as things could not get worse, the Il Divo-cycle came riding in the smelly Linston's direction. Sitting one behind the other, David Miller was ringing a tiny bike bell, Sébastien Izambard was licking a lollipop bigger than his head, Carlos Marín kept winking at every woman they passed, and Urs Bühler was reading a German edition of Cosmopolitan at the rear. They simultaneously put on their brakes directly in front of crap-laden Linston. For three minutes and nineteen seconds, they stared at the Studiot. Then, all four members of Il Divo produced random pieces of produce, and before he could react, Linston was being pelted by various healthy fruits and vegetables. David's potatoes smacked him in the head, Sébastien carefully aimed his grapes and created a blood and grape juice shower, Carlos's high-velocity carrots shattered his bones, and Urs's pineapple bazooka hit him right in the crotch. And after each one displayed a rude gesture from their own countries, the Il Divo-cycle rode off into the sunset.

For now, our story will leave Linston writhing in pain in the manure pile.

* * *

After telling her father about the Pac-Man watch incident, Sephelle began to scrounge e-Bay, praying to Jabba the Hut that another limited edition collectable like hers existed in the online auction circuit. She rapidly clicked at her keyboard, entering every category field and keyword relevant to Pac-Man. Results popped up on the screen; her brow sweated as she slowly scrolled through the three close matches…

Pac-Man Watch: Almost as Good as New! Seller: Kisuke Urahara _**Buy Now Price:**__ $120,000_

Pac-Man Limited Edition Watch, Broken Frame Seller: Nigel Powers _**Current Bid: **__$160,000 by Sean Combs __Time Left:_ 13 d 45m 57s

But the last one really caught Sephelle's eye…

Pac-Man Limited Edition Watch, #35 of 250, with Official Certificate Seller: The Belze _**Current Bid: **__$0 __Time Left:_ 0 m 12s

Without even thinking thrice, Sephelle typed in a bid for $20, using PayPal, of course. By the time she pressed "Enter", only 3.643564 seconds remained. In a moment of panic, her heart froze as the page loaded in a matter of 3.643563 seconds. Exactly 0.000001 seconds later, she received a message:

"Congratumalations! You won the bid for Pac-Man Limited Edition Watch, #35 of 250, with Official Certificate !

Now Sephelle checked the cost of shipping, and almost fainted in her chair. $4,000.69 to ship that tiny watch to Chronos. She quickly researched the location of the seller, whom she found lived at the local Suspicious Looking, Gloomy Castle Where It Is Always Nighttime. It just so happened to be a thirty minute drive from her house. So, like any grown man who still lived with their dad, Sephelle persuaded her father to drive her over there to pick up the watch.

* * *

For twenty-eight minutes, Karl drove like mad down the abandoned road through the typical barren forest that surrounded the SLGCWIIAN (see above). Crashing through dead trees, he propelled the little 1989 Toyota Camero at top speed, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was running over several flying monkeys. After braving the bombardment of timber and monkey guts, Karl and his daughter finally drove up to the front of the SLGC. Sephelle unbuckled her seatbelt as her father put the car in neutral at the front entrance.

"I'm going to just run in and run back out," assured Sephelle as she got out of the car and stuck a twenty dollar bill in her pocket. She approached the door, which had a random white cat head with a nose ring for a knocker. After banging the poor cat perpetually for three minutes, the door slowly creaked open. Cautiously, she stepped inside and the pierced cat door slammed shut behind her. From the darkness of the entryway emerged the seventh most unusual thing Sephelle had ever seen…

A hopping candelabra. How it only came in number seven on her list shall remain one of the great secrets of the universe. But anyhow, she stared at the brass candle holder as it hopped towards her. It had lit candles for arms and a head, and a roman numeral V was etched into the left side of his candle cranium.

"Yo, welcome to the how-ze!" greeted the bouncy candle holder in gangsta dialect, extending a waxy appendage to shake candles. Sephelle returned the gesture before realizing that she would get burnt. Which is exactly what happened. She recoiled in pain at its hot touch. "Oh, sorry 'bout that, dawg," apologized the candleholder. "I forget that sometimes I'm too hot to handle!" He did the _du-du-dum-kssh!_ sound effect and continued. "My name is Nizzle Sizzle!"

"Fo' shizzle?" asked Sephelle.

"Fo' shizzle my bizzle, hickey dizzle!" sizzled Nizzle.

A brazen voice resounded down the hallway. "Dude, you're, like, totally scaring the chick, man! Hey babe, you look hot!" Looking ahead, Sephelle beheld yet another strange sight that did not make her top five; a ceramic teapot leaned against the door of a room in an enticing way, if teapots can even lean against walls. On closer inspection, Sephelle saw a number VII was glazed on his right side, and that a hazy cloud seemed to surround it, and…wait, was there such thing as a teapot looking stoned?

"This be my bro, Pothead," stated Nizzle Sizzle. "Naw, don't worry dawg, he ain't doing nothing illegal, don't want no po-lice on our ass! Nah, he's just buzzed from valerian and jasmine tea." For those not educated in herbs, valerian is like the king of herbal sedatives and jasmine tea can make you drunk. Moving on!

Nizzle began conversing with Pothead about the weather and how many llamas it would take to get from here to the moon. From the corner of her peripheral hearing, Sephelle thought she could hear someone whimpering pitifully. Passing the door by which Pothead supported himself, she found herself in an elegant dining room with all the expensive crap that let people know whoever owned this house was pret-ty damn rich. The whimpering seemed to come from a corner where a golden peacock statue stood. As she stepped closer, Sephelle realized abruptly that the statue was actually a live peacock spray-painted gold, seeing as statues didn't squawk and waddle rapidly towards a wormhole that suddenly appeared that would take the peacock back to his home planet Shagatsea-52. Behind the alien bird statue, a wooden clock was huddled up, back against the corner, sobbing, performing such brutal self-mutilation that Sephelle had to look away…

He was whittling himself.

Sensing her presence, the clock turned its face upward to gaze at Sephelle. She could see that there was only one number on his face, XI, which oddly enough was in the place it was supposed to be. The clock spoke in a quivering voice, trying to hold back tears. "My wife cheated on me."

"Dude, take a pill chill, Cuckold Clock!" Pothead complained as he and Nizzle swaggered over to said clock and Sephelle. "No worries, babe, cuckolds like him are constantly having their spouse do things behind their back. On the bright side, he's gone twelve days without a suicide attempt! Rock on!" Pothead would have made a sign with his index and pinky finger if he only had arms.

The Cuckold Clock was still boo-hooing, and in a rare act of maternal instinct, Sephelle kneeled down and lifted him from his corner, cradling him in her arms. She didn't even mind that he blew his nose on the sleeve of her "Spock is My Homeboy" shirt, for she felt sympathy that no nerd had felt before.

"Hey, I want to squish her boobs too, man!" whined Pothead, but just then, a bang and a gobble resounded. Apparently, the newcomer had fired a live turkey out of a cannon to break open the door, but since it was already wide open, it ended up going splat on the wall. Sephelle turned to see who had fired the gobbling projectile and nearly dropped Clock.

A tall, rugged looking man glared at her. His light brown hair flowed down his back and along his Billowing Long Coat of Awesomeness. The number II was tattooed onto the back of one of his large, sinewy hands. He was noticeably very well-toned with refined muscles all over his body. For some reason, Sephelle began to feel her body heat up. _That is one sexy Wookie! _thought she to herself.

"My name is the Belze, feared by all who utter my name," boomed the man in a smooth, deep voice. "This is my estate, madam, and you have clearly trespassed on private property, which, under the Fairytale Homeowner's Act, article 4, paragraph 28, is punishable by law, and any offenders will be sentenced to three years in the Giants' Kitchen _(Eve and the Beanstalker) _or decapitation _(Leon in Wonderland)_."

Sephelle retorted in a matter-of-fact manner, "I'm just here to pick up that Pac-Man watch."

The Belze was taken aback, Nizzle's candles poofed out, Clock pulled his head out of the massive cleavage to stare at her, and Pothead danced to some Jimi Hendrix before passing out on the floor. Sephelle maintained her gaze at the Belze as she produced the twenty dollar bill from her pocket and waved it around for all to see. Sadly, "all" included the Cuckold Clock, who snatched it from her and promptly ate it.

Kittens chirped again.

Nizzle broke the silence with a loud, "Man, whatcha have to do that for, dawg?"

And all Clock said in reply was, "My wife cheated on me."

Swearing under his breath in Armenian, the Belze strode up to Sephelle, relieved her of the Cuckold Clock, and unceremoniously chucked said clock into the Shagatsea-52 wormhole that the alien peacock had left behind. He then turned his attention again to Sephelle and dictated, "If you cannot pay me in monetary form, then you will have to remain here and…wait, where are you going?"

Sephelle's interest had shifted to a slightly opened door to the right of the Belze. Ignoring his call, she tiptoed over to the door, and when she peeked inside, she almost died from a joygasm. For in the large room, a plasma screen, hi-def TV took up a whole wall, with all the latest and greatest video game consoles hooked up; a beautiful dual-core, Pentium 4 processor computer with a flat screen monitor resided on a chrome desk; bookshelves set within another wall were packed with every comic book known to man; glass cabinets housed exclusive figurines that most collectors would commit murder for; and finally, making Sephelle audibly squeal with ecstasy, she saw a mannequin adorned with an original Star Trek jumpsuit.

"Yes, this is my pride and joy," sighed the Belze, who had appeared beside Sephelle without the latter noticing. "All my life I've spent bidding and hording and spending my dearly departed uncle's fortune on all of this. But as you could see on eBay, I am having to part with some of my treasure due to the scarcity of money. It breaks my heart, but it must be done…It saddens me that I have no one to share it with."

Again, Sephelle could not have given a crap less. During the Belze's soliloquy, she had seated herself in front of the computer and swiveled the mouse to break up the star field screensaver. She saw that he had paused while playing World of Warcraft.

"It says here that your warlock Blood Elf is only level 7," Sephelle pointed out.

"Oh yes, I got bored with my level 64 paladin Tauran and level 28 hunter Dwarf," answered the Belze, pulling up another chair and joining Sephelle at the computer. "But this damn Blood Elf is giving me trouble."

The she-nerd began to click the mouse, clack at the keyboard, and point to the screen while narrating her actions. "See, here's your problem…you need to replace the Acolyte Cloak with something stronger that isn't mail or leather. And your Mana Tap should not be the first on your list; I suggest that you go Immolate, Corruption, then Shadow Bolt, and if the monster is not dead or is a Merlock, _then_ use Mana Tap. And you should probably change your second trade to jewelry making, not tailoring, if you're intent to go with mining. And then you see the mana residue right here…"

* * *

Meanwhile, the three appliances lurked just outside the door, with Pothead sticking his spout under the crack in order to catch the conversation. Nizzle and Clock had taken his lid off so they could hear what resounded in his ceramic noggin.

Nizzle shook his flaming head and whispered, "Oh diggity dang, she's one of them geek girls! Who'da thunk it?"

"I know, dude, she was a saucy one, too!" replied Pothead almost too loudly. Nizzle quickly stuffed his candle hand in the talkative teapot's mouth to pacify him.

Then a light flicked on in candelabra's head. Actually, it was just the flame on his head which glowed brighter whenever he had an idea, but you get the picture. "Perhaps," thought he aloud to his household peers, "this Sephy chick could be the answer to all our problems! Think about it; if she can make him happy, then perhaps he will forgive us for what we did and turn us back into decent humans!"

After a gigasecond of thinking, Pothead spoke. "Errr…what did we do again?"

"Man, dawg, how could you forget that time we snuck in the game room, had that four-and-a-half hour 'Wookies Gone Wild' marathon, held a champagne spewing contest using Dr. Strange comics as targets, and then were found buck-ass sprawled out on the beanbags with Cheese-Whiz and marshmallows on our heads?!"

"Oh yeah…" realized Pothead. "I must have been out that day."

"Whatchu – you were the one that started it, dawg!"

"Then my wife cheated on me," whined the Cuckold Clock.

* * *

An hour later, Sephelle had helped the Belze get his character to level 10. Then, the latter invited his guest to a few rounds of Halo 2, which Sephelle accepted immediately. Minutes turned to hours as they shuffled to the music of DDR, took turns slugging virtual baseballs with Wiimotes, had breaks by reading the limited-edition comics, making sure to treat them like Bibles, and perused the Belze's collection of DVDs, which included every single Star Trek show and movie.

Finally, remembering why his guest had come in the first place, the Belze reached into his shirt and pulled out a chain that held the One Ring, two official Wolverine dog tags, a bead from one of Queen Amidala's dresses, a genuine Green Lantern toy ring from the 60s, and most importantly, a few keys. He led Sephelle over to one of the glass cabinets and ceremoniously turned the lock. Reaching inside, the Belze withdrew the Pac-Man Limited Edition Watch, #35 of 250, with Official Certificate from its depths, gently blew the film of dust off, and extended his hand with the tattoo towards Sephelle. The latter offered her wrist and allowed the Belze to fit the band of the watch around it. Once it was securely fastened, Sephelle felt her body lean forward towards his. She gazed into his eyes, which struck her like a beautiful sunset on Tatooine. Their lips were only inches apart…

Bunshots rang out. Yes, bunshots. As in someone was shooting buns at a very high velocity that exceeded about 400 mph. Got a problem with that? No? Thought not. Onward, then. Anyhow, this disturbance startled the couple out of their reverie and turned their attention towards a random window that conveniently appeared. Outside, they could see a mob of utterly random people storming towards the Suspicious Looking, Gloomy Castle Where It Is Always Nighttime. Among their ranks were: Baby Bop, armed with an Uzi; Al Gore and Seto Kaiba, together riding a camel and brandishing shotguns; Scarlet O'Hara, strutting in a poofy dress dripping with daggers and machetes; and at the head of the pack, hoisting the bun cannon on his shoulder, was Linston.

Sephelle gasped. With the Belze right behind her, she raced to the front entryway to see Nizzle, Pothead, and the Cuckold Clock hiding under the "Welcome" mat. The Belze peeled the mat off of them and instantly turned away. A tea stain encircled Pothead, and Nizzle knew it was his cue to back off.

"Sorry, man," apologized Pothead. "I get really nervous whenever crazy mobs try to invade the castle, ya know?"

Grunting, the Belze clapped his hand on his forehead. He tried to think of what to do with the idiots in front of him and outside. For sure, Sephelle was not going to leave his sight without a fight…or so he thought before he saw her crack open the door to cross into no-man's land. The Belze's hand clamped onto Sephelle's shoulder, who shook her head and gently slid his hand off.

"It's me they want," she assured, "I don't want to see you get hurt. You've been very kind, and for that I'll have a special place in my heart for you." Turning to leave, Sephelle flashed the Star Trek hand sign. "Live long and prosper, Belze." Then she was gone.

Outside, Sephelle ran towards Linston with his freak show entourage. Before the Studiot could even say something perverted, he was given a kick to the groin that would leave a Nazgul unable to have kids. But…it had no effect. Linston still stood. How? OMFG, TISNF! It was decided on that fateful day that Linston was a creepy freak of nature with the body of a twelve year-old girl and a lack of genitals.

"We were just heading to the Stamp Collector's Exhibition," clarified Linston, "but I guess while we are all here cosplaying as a mob, we'll just go ahead and kill whatever thing lives in that house! Ladies, **charge**!" And the male-dominated group began running towards the castle.

Just then, the Belze had formulated a plan that was surefire, and seeing the mob dashing towards him, it was now or never. He addressed his loyal household objects. "On my word, you three will run towards them as fast as you can, and no matter what, do not stop!"

"But what about –" started Nizzle, who was instantly interrupted.

"Sephelle's life depends on it. Now Nizer, Jenos, Beluga…make me proud! GO!" As the "g" in "go" left his mouth, the candelabra, the clock, and the teapot hopped full speed head long into the crowd. When about forty yards separated them, the Belze uttered these words: "By the power invested in me by Captain Planet, Galadriel, and Yoda, I release these men of their spell!"

He looked up just in time to see the objects become engulfed in white light. By the time it faded, three fully-flesh humans had taken their place. Only thing was…they were as naked as the day they were born. But the Belze had expected just that. All members of the mob halted in half an instant and made perfect 178 degree turns in the opposite direction, shrieking their head off. Soon, all that remained were clouds of dust and camel fur as well as a bewildered Sephelle, who was still having difficulty registering the fact that she stood in the presence of three nude men.

The Belze gingerly took off his Billowing Long Coat of Awesomeness, snuck up behind said men, and rapidly tied their waists together in the coat, making sure the majority of the fabric covered their extremities. He then ran over to Sephelle and embraced her in a massive hug. She wrapped his arms around him and hugged back. In that moment, Sephelle and the Belze knew that they were two nerds meant for each other, to share the joys of collecting and sitting on one's ass all day. They knew it was true love.

…_**And they lived happily ever after.**_

…But Sephelle still had one question.

"Uh, Belze, about what I saw earlier…does that mean you also –"

"Yes, but those three guys give that sort of thing a bad name!" They both laughed.

* * *


	3. Eve and the Beanstalker

**Disclaimers: I do not own Black Cat or Jack and the Beanstalk. Nor do I own Alan Rickman/Snape, the laws of physics, (His Sexiness) Paul Bettany, or tight pants. But I do own the rights of an American citizen…which don't do much good if you go to Central Asia or the Middle East. **

Eve and the Beanstalker

_**The Cast:**_

**Eve - **Herself

**Eve's Father –**Sven Vollfied

**The Underground Bean Lord** - Shiki

**Giant **- Woodney

**Giantess- **Saya

**Magic Harp - **Kyoko

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Eve, a poor young bioweapon with only her guardian, Sven, to protect her. Now, Sven was a Sweeper who lived from bounty to bounty, and there were times when money proved scarce. It was during one of these periods in which Sven had to make an important decision: sell his every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché, or eat their pet random white cat. However, Eve did note that the cute kitty may have rabies, (imagine the thing with rabies!), and thus convinced Sven to let her go to the pawn shop with the attaché.

Eve made her way through the town, careful to avoid the utterly weird strangers who roamed the streets freely, talking of kittens in tights (_Robin Train and His Merry Cats_) as well as rumors of a certain young boy who had insulted the Queen of Gates. (_Leon in Wonderland_). Within ten minutes, she approached the pawn shop, only to encounter a sign slapped on the door that boasted "EVICTED". Great. Now Eve was in the middle of town carrying Sven's every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché and with not a cent to her name. She pivoted around to return home when a figure emerged from the shadows.

"Will you not buy some beans, my dear child?" wheezed a raspy voice which was further muffled by layers upon layers of robes. Only his glowing eyes were visible through the cloth encasement. The queer questioner repeated his offer. "Buy some beans, my dear child! These aren't ordinary beans; these, my dear child, are authentic garbanzo beans, and if you wet them for a few hours and then mash them into a paste, then add some garlic and olive oil to it, you shall make the best hummus dip in the world!" The Underground Bean Lord dug through his pockets in search of the said beans, quickly becoming frantic with each outturned pocket. Finally, he let out a desperate sigh.

"Uh, it appears, my dear child, that I misplaced my garbanzo beans, so just be a good girl and take these suspiciously unimportant magical beans instead and leave your father's every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché right in front of me." Not knowing what else to do to get this creep away from her, Eve complied.

Later that evening, Eve came home with a small bundle of cash in one hand and the magic beans in another. She flopped the money on the table, and since Sven had fine-tuned his ability to hear the sound of money flopping on the table, he dashed into the living room instantly. Soon, the cash was cascading from one hand to the other in a quick count.

Sven nodded in approval. "Not as much as I would have expected, Eve, but this will get us through at least until another huge-ass bounty. I bet you searched ever shop in town to sell my every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché, and that's why you're home so late."

Eve tried to keep her 1920s flapper outfit hidden behind her back. "Yes…I had to search far and wide to find someone to buy it…" she stated nervously. "I'm going to bed now, after a day of not going to the local strip club to dance and fool you with that money!" With this, she dashed upstairs, tossing the magical beans into the mouth of the white cat in order to destroy the evidence.

* * *

Next morning, Eve awoke bright and early and peered out the window to see if she could catch Charden undressing next door. What greeted her that morning, though, turned out to be a fantastic view of the Taoist removing his clothes…which just so happened to be completely blocked by the most flipping huge beanstalk on this side of the Bronx. Eve poked her head out the window and stared up, realizing that the gigasprout extended up into the clouds. Her gaze leveled to notice that the leaves had an odd shape. Could it be…? All of the leaves were shaped like the face of the pet random white cat! How was this possible? Eve stared down and saw tiny white tufts and crimson splotches surrounding the stalk's base. Oh crap, she did not want to know…

Curiosity got the best of her, so she raced into her father's room. Sven was still asleep in his bed, and seemed to be wearing nothing under his bed sheets. (Had Eve asked why, Sven would have said it would save money by not having to buy pajamas, but the blond woman lying next to him made her question that.) She turned her finger into a red paint brush and scribbled a message on the inside of the door.

_Eve will return after she explores what the beanstalk has to offer._

_Beware the Underground Bean Lord._

The paint dripped quite a bit, but she ignored it and went back to her room. From her window, Eve leapt onto the stalk, transforming her hands into grappling hooks for support. Her shoes mutated into spikes that penetrated the plant. Trying not to look at the fur and blood beneath her, Eve began her spider crawl up the beanstalk.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Sven awoke after an especially satisfying dream. He had dreamed that he was a joyous penguin, tap dancing on a musical city street with money raining down on his head. He only woke when a quarter hit him in the eye, startling him from his sleep. Grunting, Sven opened his eyes and nearly jumped at the sight of Tearju, the Sultan's daughter (_Svenaladdin_) sleeping soundly beside him. Just as he shook that shock, Sven made the mistake of peeking under the covers.

The Sweeper's face went instantly pale. How was he going to explain this to Eve? With her wits, how would he convince her that last night, some genie named Lloyd had dropped Tearju off in his bed when he was half asleep, and the only reason he didn't do anything was because he thought she was the masquerading giraffe from his penguin dream?

Perhaps he had been tired, like, tired enough to let a genie drag a chick in his room, thought he as he sat up. "Either that or I must have gotten high on -" Sven stopped in mid-think. His eyes lay upon a horrifying sight…

Sven had left the lamp on all night! In a panic, he rushed across the room to turn off the energy-guzzling menace of a lamp. Then Sven looked down. Groaning, he trudged over to his closet and put on some pants. But when he came back out, he saw the red, bleeding message on the door that almost caused his fly to get caught.

_Eye yill neuter over zhe explenes vhat hi brondkhas dooter_

_Beware the Underground Bean Lord_

Though the top line had smeared so that it looked like gibberish, Sven became even more scared than the original message would have made him. See, Sven just so happened to be fluent in Gibberish, so he was able to decipher it as, "You will be murdered by a blond man in stilettos." (reference from _Magic Castle_ by Fasie and Cracker. Read it, it's brilliant!)

So shocked was he that Sven executed a highly dramatic act of fainting, with the gasp and the hand-to-the-forehead and the eyes rolling into the back of the head and the slow-mo collapsing to the ground. In fact, out of the closet came Alan Rickman with an Academy Award just for him. But seeing that Sven had passed out, Alan Rickman prodded the unconscious Sweeper with the Oscar, shrugged, and then turned into Snape and flew away.

* * *

By this time, Eve had almost reached the top of the beanstalk. It really wasn't all that tall; in actuality, it only reached to the top of the CN Tower. How the hell she had gotten to Canada just by climbing straight up a beanstalk would remain a mystery. Anywho, she jumped off the beanstalk and landed at the entrance of a humungo castle that balanced on the pin-sized point at the tippity-top of the CN Tower. Now tell me that doesn't defy the laws of physics.

"It doesn't defy the laws of physics," stated Paul Bettany from the hit movie Firewall, who, out of nowhere, rode onto the scene on the back of a pterodactyl. The authoress, in turn, smartly aimed a mauve and indigo bolt of lightning at said rider and beast, frying both to bits. The Hand of God caught them on a silver platter and brought them to the authoress on the other side of the screen. She stopped for a short break, so as to devour the utterly delicious sex muffin and dinosaur, before resuming to the story.

As I was saying, Eve made her way towards the gargantuan wooden door of the colossal castle, which had been left open an Eve-sized crack. Thus, she slipped inside and instantly knew she was not in Kansas anymore. Or New York. Or wherever the hell Sven had said they were. I mean, god, who could not get the reference of _Esilda_ to _Brazil_ in the manga? … You mean you **just** made the connection? It was all there, the partying, the carnival, the gals with the propellers on their…you get what I mean.

No more distraction! So, Eve had stepped into a monstrous castle, where everything was exactly 9.76812 times normal size. Across the hall, she smelled the sweet scent of honey and bacon sandwiches cut into quarters. This being every bioweapon's favorite treat, Eve could not resist following the trail of odor all the way to an open, enormous, and surprisingly well-tidied kitchen. The sheer size of everything astounded petite Eve, who walked around curiously. A huge table was set with two huge chairs near a huge refrigerator next to a huge stove and a huge…

What the hazmat? Eve had come near an oven the size of a third world hospital, and had almost collided with a large…thing. Coming in at number three on the weirdest things she had ever seen, a round, flowery mass towered over, swishing from side to side in time with the tune of a song. Then, it retreated into a vortex of even more flowers that reached all the way to a head of hair and down to a pair of feet bigger than a grown zebra. With a sudden awareness, Eve realized that she had been staring at some giant lady's ass.

(In case you're curious, number two was a penguin from the mafia who ate cheese and shot beanbags at Clay Aiken, causing every single middle-aged woman in America to cry; and number one…let's just say it involved five apples, a guitar amplifier, a can of whipped cream, six live trout, a lampshade, two books on European philosophy, and Sven after three strawberry tequilas.)

So anyhow, all Eve could say was, "Oh my god, Becky. Look. At. Her. Butt." Right when she said it, Clay Aiken magically appeared beside her, sporting his grown-out hair, a dress shirt and blazer, and a pair of deliciously tight jeans. (Insert subtle yet provocative comment about the belt line here.) And Clay started to sing that infamous song he had performed on his recent tour…(I swear to god this happened, I saw his concert in Houston.)

_I like big butts and I cannot lie!_

_You other brothers can't deny!_

_When a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist_

_And a round thing in your face _

_You get…_

BAM! Clay Aiken stopped in mid-verse and fell forward unconscious. Behind him, a sinister penguin held a smoking beanbag gun in one hand and a chunk of havarti cheese in the other. Mission accomplished, it waddled back to its Wisconsin-bound jet plane and took off. Meanwhile, a band of grandmas tied Clay to their wheelchairs and started to drag him away to do unspeakable things to him.

All of this hadn't gone unnoticed. In fact, the owner of the colossal butt that started it all had witnessed the entire thing. Eve craned her head as far up as she could to see a behemoth of a woman towering over her. The giantess tilted her head in confusion, then bent over to better scrutinize Eve.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "They're making ladybugs using real girls now!" Eve tried to ignore that comment. "Hi, I'm Saya! Did I ever tell you about the time I caught a dragonfly with my bare hands, but I squished it, so it was all dead and stuff? It was gooey and messy…I like marshmallows. Do you like marshmallows? Personally I hate them, but that reminds me, the cable guy should be here about noon tomorrow…I need a shower. Does it smell like bacon in here? Hi, I'm Saya. Have you ever jumped into a cold pool while holding your nose and – OH MY GOD! It's Clay Aiken!"

Stepping on the poor grannies who were carting away the comatose Clay, Saya plucked the American Idol finalist off the ground and promptly ate him. Eve had to turn away when the giantess looked at her and continued talking rapidly, with a trickle of blood dribbling off her chin. "Oh my god, Clay Aiken is so cute, I just want to eat him up! But I guess I took that literally, seeing as he was really there, and I actually ate him. Have you seen my cell phone anywhere? I could have sworn I let the cat out yesterday, but I've never ridden on a subway. Do potatoes grow on trees? I had a pet fish once…" She paused in the middle of her ADHD rant. "HOLY CRAPITUCKONASTICK! I ate Clay Aiken!"

Thus began a shower of crocodile(sized) tears. Little tsunamis hurtled towards Eve as each tear splashed on the ground. Eve, therefore, transformed her arms into wings and flew with all her might to the top of the kitchen table. It proved to be like trying to fly to the top of a two-story fire station, except she did not see any guys with ripped abs glide seductively down poles. Anyhow, once atop the table, she could hear the thundering footsteps of someone else coming into the kitchen, who chanted with each step, "Banking-fee, testi-fie, twenty-fo, green-fum, I smell the blood of a stupid bum!" Surveying the tabletop, Eve crawled under a quilt-sized napkin next to her and peeped out from under the folds.

If Saya had been gargantuan, then the newcomer was eff-ing massive. Had he been within human proportions, he would have been classified as a fatty, as it already was. But his little toe would have blown all other competition out of the water. I mean, he was so big that he…Damn, I'm running out of metaphors and similes for these two giants! No wonder the original conceiver of this story didn't go into great detail; he probably would have worn his kitty quill down to a stub before completing his third sentence! (How does one make a kitty quill? Have a kitty sprawl out on its stomach and make sure the entirety of its weight can be supported by its tail. Then, grab the kitty by the tail, hold it upright, and dip the tail, with the kitty on top, into a vial of ink made from that Supa Dupa Cawn-sun-ter-ated Opium Perfume and Mouthwash.)

Goddammit, stop getting off track, authoress! As I was saying, the giant approached the blubbering giantess, patting her on the back to comfort her. "Aw, what's wrong, Saya dear?"

After suppressing a few tear-laden hiccups, she answered, "Oh, Woodney…I…I…I ate Clay!" She clutched her face in her hands and began another round of waterworks. Woodney, on the other hand, just stared around and scratched his head.

"Man, we must go through those humans fast, for you to be eating dirt," observed he, opening the fridge and sorting through the various Tupperware containers filled with elephant steaks, kanga-stew, buttered orca with a side of steamed trees, and some pie made out of the Great Pumpkin. "Huh. Methinks I'll go down the beanstalk later and get some more _homo sapiens_ for supper. By the way, have you figured out why the hell it takes us somewhere other than Canada? Odd, eh?"

While Woodney continued his pondering, Eve spotted a glint from the corner of her periphery, which almost made her eyes explode from excessive blood circulation, that's how wide her eyes got. For, posed on the table between a bowl of pineapples and a pepper shaker filled with the ashes of Anna Nicole Smith, was a solid gold harp. The figure of a young Japanese schoolgirl in a coconut bra and Victoria's Secret panties (_Snow Walker_) ornamented the front, followed by a peaking procession of gold strings. Granted, the thing was colossal in relation to the pint-sized Eve, but she had faith in the mighty Authoress that, through some sort of plot hole, she would indeed be saved.

Thusly, after a mysterious ten minutes time lapse, Eve had miraculously dragged the harp out the front door, without getting caught by Woodney and Saya. Evidently, that particular hole in the plot somehow held the link between what led them from being in the kitchen, crying and pondering, to doing a cardio workout to one of Richard Simmons' old tapes. Trying her damnedest to ignore the repetitions of, "And kick, and kick!", Eve pushed the harp onto a miraculously strong leaf on the beanstalk. But just as she had anchored the stringed instrument onto the kitty shaped leaf, the freaking harp just had to open her big, fat, freaking mouth.

"RAPE! RAPE! The protagonist is trying to take me away! As the impending source of her 'happily ever after', I've got two minutes to make her life a living hell! RAPE! RAPE!" The harp had quite screamed her lungs out of her ribcage, and still the two giants hadn't given a crap about their harp. In fact, they even began to play the Cinema version of Trivial Pursuit using only their teeth. Feeling unloved, the schoolgirl harp shuffled towards the end of the leaf.

"Well, this is about $100,000 going down the crapper according to the Antiques Road Show!" she yelled. "No more hippo kabobs for you, fatasses! WAHOOOOOOO!" The harp kamikaze-dived off the top of the beanstalk and towards the earth below.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Princeton-Plainsborough clinic…

"House, you know that if you go in there and forcibly get his consent, all of our jobs could be in jeopardy!" insisted a black man in a doctor's coat.

"Foreman's right," replied a girl to his left. "He may not want to be…"

"Oh, and letting him die would make it all better, huh?" retorted a cranky man, supporting himself by a cane. "Since when did you start wearing your rose colored glasses, Cameron?"

"We ran all the tests we could," interrupted a handsome blond Aussie. "The only thing we haven't eliminated yet is lupus."

"What is this about, Chase?" asked an older woman who just came out of the dean of medicine's office. She glared at Chase, Cameron, and Foreman before grunting "House, what is it this time…"

"YEHOOOOOOOOO!"

Just then, all five doctors heard a yell from above. The older woman had just enough time to look up before being instantly crushed by a falling harp.

The others just stared. Kittens chirped. Finally, Dr. House had the decency to announce, "Oh my god, they killed Cuddy!"

* * *

Back at the beanstalk…

Woodney finally noticed something was amiss when he pulled the Trivial Pursuit card asking, "Who played Prince Feisal in 'Lawrence of Arabia'?" and the harp didn't shout the answer from the other room. (If anyone gets this right, s/he receives a cookie!) Then, he realized that a little girl had started to descend from the beanstalk outside. Having been charged as a registered beanstalker on multiple occasions, Woodney eyed the girl in a perverted way and licked his lips. Now, this creeped the sheep out of Eve; her only choice now was to take the mile-high drop and pray she didn't land on Dr. Chase, or otherwise be devoured by some fat sicko.

Praying to God, Buddha, Allah, Vishnu, and Puff the Magic Dragon, Eve pushed herself off of the beanstalk and let herself fall. Just as she did so, she could hear leaves snapping as Woodney hurriedly clambered down behind her.

* * *

While all this was happening, the Underground Bean Lord had snuck into Sven's house and raided his cupboard. Why did he come here? Let's just say that he had second thoughts about the every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché upon discovering that one of the buttons on it activated a loud farting noise. Thus, UBL had Googled the house's location in hope of returning it for those magic beans. But that all had gone kaput when he saw the flipping huge beanstalk, along with a fantastic view of a certain Taoist undressing. Shrugging, UBL had knocked on the door, and since Sven was still unconscious upstairs, he let himself in.

That's when he laid eyes on the jackpot: bags and bags of garbanzo beans burst forth from a cupboard. (Apparently, it was one of the cheapest things Sven could afford with what little money he had.) Elated out of his wits, UBL hoarded the gazillion bags of garbanzo beans into the infinite depths of his robe, and he even peeled a few Franklins off a roll of cash and put them next to the every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché. Outside, he heard the rumble of a giant sliding down a beanstalk, and UBL decided to hightail it out of there.

Sven, meanwhile, had just woken up again, this time from the sound coming outside his window. He moaned in disdain at the sight of his pants being only halfway on. After finally putting them on correctly, Sven leaned out the window and looked out just in time to see Eve land on a single cushion that had been so conveniently left by the Underground Bean Lord, without so much as a bruise. The giant that followed wasn't as lucky, no duh. Woodney's mass of 9,526 km and acceleration of -9.8m/s ² caused him to crash into the earth at approximately 93,355N (Newtons), thus penetrating the earth's core and leaving him to death by melting.

Eve walked casually back into the house as if nothing had happened. But she hadn't expected to be bearhugged by Sven upon entering. The Sweeper planted a big kiss on her cheek and would have crushed her had she not gasped, "Gak! I'm glad I didn't get eaten by the giant, too, Sven! Now leggo!"

Respectively, Sven backed away, but looked at her weirdly. "You were gone?" he asked. Eve thought it wise not to reply, but wouldn't have had the chance anyhow, for Sven went on, "I'm just so excited that I got my every-damn-weapon-on-god's-green-earth-all-in-one attaché back, and look at this! I found two thousand dollars right next to it! My day's getting better and better!"

However, he then spotted the cupboard that had been totally derived of its contents. "Where the hell did all our beans go?...Who gives a rat's ass! Come on, Eve, let's get some caviar!"

Meanwhile, up in the sky, poor Saya stood next to the beanstalk and mourned for her late husband. "I can't believe Woodney's gone…" she wailed, dabbing her eyes with the Botswana flag. She sniffed and gained her…usual composure. "But you know what I really can't believe? I can't believe it's not butter! Speaking of which, did I clean the paintbrushes last night? Joe Camel was supposed to drop by today, but chickens can lay up to five eggs a day! Odd, I always thought that Brazilian toilets were made of silver, or was it Belgian lettuce…Oh, look, a swimming pool!"

And with that, Saya ripped off her yukata, exposing a bikini underneath, and bellyflopped into the Pacific Ocean, and that's how the Great Rift was created.

* * *

…_**And they lived happily ever after.**_


	4. Leon in Wonderland

Leon in Wonderland

**Disclaimers: I do not own Black Cat or Alice in Wonderland or the Beatles' Yellow Submarine. Nor do I own Playboy, Byakuya Kuchiki, fish sticks, Hugh Grant, Wonder Woman, Gumby, pickle ball, a platinum tiara, or any sort of magical mushroom. Believe me, if I were to continue on with the list, you wouldn't be able to enjoy this latest installment that I graciously thank you all for waiting on!**

**Leon in Wonderland**

_**The Cast:**_

**Leon – **Himself

**Sugar-Rush Rabbit** – Kyoko

**Creedshire Cat** – Creed

**March Heretic** – Durham

**The Flam Hatter- **Charden

**Stoned Faterpillar – **Maro

**Tweedleshiki** – Shiki

**Queen of Gates – **Echidna

**King of Gates** – Doctor

Once upon a time, or maybe twice…hold on, this isn't Yellow Submarine! (Grumble) Trying to sound smart by pretending this occurred more than once upon a time…(grumble) This isn't a story about an imaginary, drug-induced land with indescribably weird creatures and a fat tub of lard trying to kill our protagonist, is it? Wait, it is? Oh…my god, what was C.S. Lewis smoking when he wrote Alice in Wonderland? I mean, they say the hippies who animated Yellow Submarine were on LSD or speed or crack, so our man Lewis must have been totally wasted when…What, the reader says they want to hear the story? Fine, we'll give them the story of Leon in Wonderland…

So, (fill in the blank) upon a time, a young boy named Leon had decided to take a break from the tedious Taoist life and go out for a picnic. Nobody else wanted to go with him because all the other Apostles of the Stars had "just so happened" to schedule pedicures at that time. Thusly, Leon stopped at Burger King and took his lunch to a random jolly meadow. In reality, jolly meadows made him puke from its overly saccharine cuteness, but he was able to only barf once into a clear, sparkly pond with happy little fishies (all of which floated to the top belly-up within minutes). Anyhow, filled with what lunch he could hold down, Leon seated himself under a random Great Magical Happy Dream tree, and wouldn't you know it, he closed his eyes for what felt like only a minute…

Then woke back up one minute and two seconds later. Nothing had happened. Or so it seemed. That's what he thought. But his perception of the world is different than that of you or I, is it not? Something may happen to me that may or may not be happening to you, or verse visa. In the same manner, what Leon sees may or may not be what we see, nor can we begin to grasp his view since we are not, in fact, a part of him. So now you've learned something new; fanfiction defies physics!

Anyhow, in Leon's perspective, nothing changed, until a Japanese girl in a Playboy bunny outfit scampered past him, snorting Pixie Sticks all the while. Entranced by the sight of jiggling boobs ready to explode out of the fluffy corset, Leon decided to follow her. As he got closer, he could hear her chanting a little rhyme…

_My hump, my hump,_

_My lovely lady lumps!_

_No time to say, "Watch out!" or dodge_

_My hump, my hump, my hump!_

Leon knew he was too young to hear that, yet he figured out exactly what she meant. See, he had a replica of the key to Charden's secret XXX stash, but that's another story. Fetish notwithstanding, Leon continued to pursue this Sugar-Rush Rabbit for three more minutes until suddenly, a warp gate appeared and a spray-painted gold peacock flew out (_Beauty and the Belze_). The girl hopped right in without ruining her groove, and before he could stop himself, Leon tripped over a dead possum and flew into the hole right behind her.

Our protagonist found himself free falling through a psychedelically colored tunnel at a great acceleration. Quickly glancing to either side of him, Leon noticed a feather and a bowling ball, both of which were in fact accelerating at the same rate. Great. So Leon was in a vacuum for some strange reason. He then landed face flat on a bed of gelatin, and bounced a score of feet in the air. After flipping a few times in the air, Leon realized he could use his Tao powers again since he was out of that abhorred vacuum. Like a cat, he landed on his feet, but then tripped on his shoelaces.

Anyhow, Leon saw that he had ended up in front of some sort of cottage/nightclub. He could tell it was a nightclub because it was night and the pumped up bass rattled the cottage's foundation and because of the people coming in and out. He saw famous icons such as Grover and Snuffalufagus, (_Snow Walker and the Seven Sweepers_) entering the joint while a certain Byakuya Kuchiki leaned on the shoulders of Hugh Grant and Wonder Woman, all three staggering away and singing a Norwegian drinking song. Just then, Leon spotted the Sugar-Rush Rabbit hop into the club without even getting carded. The bluenette knew he would need someway to get in so he could continue his perverted pursuit. But Eathes the monkey was a tough bouncer, so how?...

A farting sound rang out, and out of the periwinkle-tinged robin's egg blue, a white haired Persian cat with Creed's face materialized beside Leon. The cat held the Guinness World Record for the widest grin, and he seemed to be purring and chuckling to himself in an indescribably naughty way. After enduring about a minute of purruckling, Leon finally gave the creature the Stare of Death© and asked what was so funny.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

The Creedshire cat paused his purruckling long enough to respond, "I was practicing for when you would needlessly repeat something the authoress stated!" He resumed his strange expression of amusement, Leon rolled his eyes, and the three celebrities who sang the Norwegian drinking song simultaneously passed out. "Anyhow, if you want to hang with those 'dawgs' in 'da club'," stated the Creedshire cat, who put claw quotations around those words, "you have some growing up to do, 'playa', and that means doing like everyone else and waiting about ten more years before you can even think about getting laid."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to tell me about that unusual mushroom that you have hiding behind your back?" reasoned the bluenette, spotting a totally excellent psychedelic 'shroom concealed behind the Creedshire cat's poofy fur.

Said cat stroked his chin thoughtfully, but had forgotten to retract his claws, so his jaw began to bleed. "It would, but since that defeat my purpose as an antihero, I won't tell you that the side with ochre dots will turn you into a twenty-three year old man while the side with mahogany dots will—" Leon nabbed the mushroom and devoured it whole.

Kittens chirped.

The authoress snapped the Creedshire cat out of chirping so he could say, "Well, I hope you burn in hell, dumbass. That was my only 'shroom." And with that, his body disappeared slowly until only his left paw was visible. Then his face quickly reappeared and with a glance down and a curt "goddamit," the face and left paw scampered away to buy some fish sticks.

Now Leon began to feel very strange. It was as though his appendages were becoming elongated, like those of Gumby. Speaking of which, Gumby himself hobbled out of the bar, drunk as a lump of clay could be. He watched dumbly as Leon's features aged by twelve years, complete with flecks of facial hair, youthful buffness, and, to Leon's utter surprise, a way deeper voice. The wind Taoist couldn't believe it; he felt his adult body, marveled over his hands and feet, and even took a quick look down his pants…oh yeah, he had definitely grown. Meanwhile, Gumby concluded that he was downright wasted and dissolved into a puddle of goo, which was promptly eaten by a band of ducks.

Thus our young, older hero strutted confidently past Eathes and into the hubaloo of the cottage/nightclub. Leon's senses were instantly bombarded. Colored lights flickered everywhere; putrid smoke clouds mingled with the scent of alcohol and sweating bodies; the booming bass of a techno beat rattled his eardrums. The bar was lined with Hollywood wash-ups who tried to drown their miseries in liquor. Leon snatched up a random drink and downed it in one gulp (but it turned out to be a virgin Shirley Temple). Armed with this false sense of pride, he scanned the sea of bobbing heads on the dance floor in search of his bit-- I mean, the Sugar Rush Rabbit.

Manning the DJ station were a blond man with an exceptionally tall hat and a seemingly delusional cowboy with a muzzle and a gay poncho. Once the current song ended, the hat dude took up a microphone and greeted, "Whazzup, cocker spaniels!" The crowd cheered in response. "For those of you dweebs who have been living under a rock or in a lamp _(Svenaladdin)_, I'm DJ Flam Hatter, and this is my bud, DJ March Heretic!"

The rabid cowboy snatched the microphone and shouted, "The Church is wrong about the separation of book and bathroom!" After this spastic moment, he calmly handed it back to the Flam Hatter before leaving to go read a magazine on the commode. There were a few "woots" in agreement.

The Flam Hatter sighed, "That's our heretic. Anyhow! We're going to slow it down a bit so you all can chillax after some hard unbirthday partying." He dusted off a vinyl record and gingerly placed the needle on top of it. Immediately, the sound of old west saloon piano music filled the cottage/nightclub. Leon took advantage of this downtime to continue his pursuit of the Sugar Rush Rabbit, who just so happened to skip merrily past him at that moment and through a beaded curtain. Above the clinkety entrance was a sign that boldly stated "DO NOT ENTER. THAT MEANS YOU, BLUE-HAIRED DITZ." Well, the mushroom had failed to raise his reading level; as a matter of fact, the fungus had assumed that Leon's brain cell count would be dramatically lower by the time he was twenty-three. Need we must say how?

So Leon passed through the beaded curtain, and he felt pretty sure that it would lead him to a smoke-filled room packed with people doing all sorts of stuff that's probably illegal in seventy-four different countries, maybe even in Holland. He couldn't have been more wrong. Instead, he stepped into a smoke-filled room packed with people doing all sorts of stuff that's probably illegal in seventy-four different countries, maybe even in Holland, with a morbidly obese, gelatinous mass bearing multiple arms and occupying more than half of the space. This Faterpillar was obviously Stoned, hence the name Stoned Faterpillar. At least four of his arms held one hookah pipe a piece, three arms had bottles of exotic wine, two arms were playing a sitar, and another arm was sticking a finger up his nose. Upon spotting Leon, the Stoned Faterpillar began a nonsensical soliloquy.

"_How doth the sloth_

_Cough in a trough_

_Which scoffs the loft_

_Of David Lee Roth?"_

The massive blob blew a smoke ring in Leon's direction. Our man-boy, in turn, covered his hands with his mouth to filter out the smoke. That's when Leon noticed something normal that turned out to be strange for that particular moment; his hands had shrunken back to their regular size. In fact, he felt his body becoming smaller by the nanosecond.

"_The booming 'shroom_

_Assumes your doom_

_So groom that broom_

_From Fruit of the Loom."_

"Wait a sec," cut in Leon, "Aren't you supposed to be so Stoned off your ass that you wouldn't know about the mushroom?"

"_Indeed, young weed_

_But with speed we need_

_To inform the read-_

_Er of this creed."_

"Hey, that's cheating, fatty!" exclaimed Leon, who had by now completed his boyish reverse transformation. "You can't use 'reader' to rhyme with 'creed'! That would be fallacy!"

Out on the dance floor, the record scratched, not intentionally, though; the Flam Hatter had simply gotten his hand stuck on the turntable needle. Said DJ now ran around franticly, clenching his damaged appendage and screaming Hebrew cuss words. Everyone in the smoky room stopped whatever they were doing and stared at Leon. And somewhere, at that exact same time, Train was skipping down a busy street naked.

Tears began to well up in the Stoned Faterpillar's eyes. Not only did he wish to be on that busy street, but this little cretin had also openly insulted him. He, a big-boned (not fat, in his mind) poet whose surplus limbs had prevented him from becoming a college English professor! So distraught was the Faterpillar that he shocked the world by not talking in rhyme for the first time in centuries. "How dare you accuse me of fallacy and obesity!" A dramatic spotlight shone out of nowhere. "You, an ignorant young blossom of a youth, who has yet to experience the trials and hardships that come with being a part of the cruel world that is modern society. Have you no empathy for the pedagogic efforts put forward to ensure that generations proceeding this will praise our present era as the epitome of scholarship?"

"Apparently not…he just left," stated a certain delusional cowboy in a gay poncho. The March Heretic had poked his head in, since he hadn't the lack of decency to enter the room with his pants still at his ankles and a copy of _Vanity Fair_ under his arm. Sure enough, when the Stoned Faterpillar surveyed the room as much as his fat-laden neck would let him, there was no sign of the blue-haired boy man. Leon had discovered a secret passageway blocked off by a certain poet's massive ass-ive, and knowing that he would need a shower immediately afterwards, he reluctantly squeezed past the folds of blubber and into the portal. Much to his luck, the passage just so happened to have a fully functional private shower right before the other opening.

Leon was surprised to find not two, not three, not four, but one cloth-clad midget standing in front of a fork in the road. And it literally was a dinner fork sticking out of the road. In fact, what disturbed Leon the most was that the odd bundle with eyes was on his knees and bowing before "Forkedelias, The Phenomenally Omnipotent Bringer of Delicious Morsels." Figuring that this thing would know something about the divided road that really did stand behind it, Leon cleared his throat. Said practitioner of Forkedelianism was startled out of his kibbles and bits, but relaxed when he discovered it was only a boy that he could easily prod with a fork if necessary.

The cloth ball stood and made a weird gesture of welcoming. "Why, greetings, dear child! I am Tweedleshiki, humble follower of Forkedelias." Tweedleshiki pulled out several pamphlets from the depths of his robes and stuffed them in Leon's hands, including _Forking Around with Destiny _and _Kama Spoontra and You_. "And how may I assist you in your spiritual quest towards achieving the divine unity of man and nature known as Spork?"

Leon made sure to not carefully consider his answer before speaking. "Have you seen a hot babe with a giant rack dressed in a Playboy bunny outfit, by any chance?"

Tweedleshiki stared at the boy awkwardly for a solid fifty-eight seconds. Either he was stunned by the starkness of the inquiry or he was racking – oops, I mean…(oh god, what's a better word…) Rolodexing through his brain. Evidently, it was the latter, since it took Tweedleshiki a few minutes to grab his brain and flip through the little cards on the wheel. Finally, he answered, "I believe, dear child, that your object of obsession headed towards the Queen of Gates' castle. To get there, you must take the route to my right, go five less than thirty yards, make three lefts, go twelve more than the product of seven and nine yards, make three rights, and tell the guard that you come bringing kumquats."

"So you're saying," recited Leon back to the Forkedelian, "I take the road to the left, walk twenty-five yards, turn right, walk another seventy-five yards, turn left, and tell the guard I come bringing kumquats?"

"**Noooooo! You have it all wrong, my dear child!**" exclaimed Tweedleshiki. "You must take the route to my right, go five less than thirty yards, make three…wait! Why don't you listen to me?!" The boy had ignored him and proceeded to walk into the sunset; that is, there was a quicksand pit that the locals called "The Sunset." But this being a magical place of wonder, anything Leon did would not affect his eventual arrival to the Queen of Gates' castle.

"He is so not going to achieve Spork," concluded Tweedleshiki as he sat back down and resumed his prayers to Forkedelias.

A few plotholes later, Leon found himself in front of what looked more like Bill Gates' house. But he knew he was in the right place because he saw a royal entourage playing pickle ball (I swear to god this is an actual sport) in the front yard. Servants of sorts quietly observed as a green-haired lady wearing a platinum tiara used a wooden paddle to whack the wiffle ball underhanded to a nerdy guy sporting a paper Burger King crown. The plastic hole-infested ball zoomed past him and into the point zone. A polite applause rang out and a monkey in a toga adjusted the scoreboard cards to say "Queen – 26; King – 0." A meek servant ran out to the court with a silver tray and presented the Queen of Gates with a champagne glass filled with blue Gatorade. She delicately sipped on the beverage before smashing the glass on the court (which was instantly cleaned up by a white cat in a janitor's outfit).

Leon watched all of this from behind a conveniently placed pine tree, though mainly that he was mesmerized by the way the Queen bounced around with a wooden paddle in her hand. Now, you may declare, our young, innocent Leon would not think such perverse thoughts! Au contraire. Maybe not the young, innocent Leon, but right at that moment, the mushroom began to take affect again. Once more, his biological clock sped ahead twelve years and the routine transformations took place. (If you're wondering about his clothes, take it up with the Creedshire Cat; he's the smartass on magic around here!) Unfortunately, he was now too large to be concealed by the pine tree, and the King of Gates ratted him out immediately.

"You there! Hot, steaming god of a man!" Before grownup Leon could react, the King of Gates grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out to the court. "May I interest you in a doubles match against my wife so I can get my platinum tiara back? Of course, if we lose, you get your head chopped off; but if we win, it'll only get severed!" The King handed the old boy a paddle, then pointed across the other side of the low net. "Just make sure you don't get distracted by my wife's partner…"

Sure enough, standing next to the Queen of Gates and striking a provocative pose with her wooden paddle was none other than the Sugar Rush Rabbit. Finally, Leon might be able to properly hit on this bootylicious thing after victoriously triumphing in a game of pickle ball, at which he was a champ. And since he was a grown man at the moment, he would be able to boldly do what he always fantasized…hold hands with her! (See, not all of his innocence went down the crapper.) But he snapped out of his daydream just in time to see all of those hopes totally shattered.

She was making out with the Queen.

Leon's jaw dropped, and in quite a literal sense. The King of Gates roughly smacked the man boy on the ass with the paddle, causing the latter to fall forward on his face. "Don't stare at my openly lesbian wife!" ordered the King, adjusting the paper crown on his head. "Now, are we going to win my tiara back or not, male slave?" And on that disturbing note, Leon picked himself up, rubbed his tender behind, and got ready for some pickle ball.

The Sugar Rush Rabbit made the first serve. Despite what just occurred a mere minute ago, Leon could not help staring at her, which nearly caused his face to make friends with the wiffle ball. Our hero, though, kept his focus and executed the gentle underhanded arc necessary to deliver the ball back to the opposing side. The women happened to be busy exchanging seductive glances at that moment and they missed the ball completely. A collective gasp rang out through the crowd as the toga monkey placed a 1 card under the King's score.

Ecstatically, the King of Gates cheered, tossed his paper Burger King crown on the court, and stomped on it during a joyous River Dance. While he did his victory jig, Leon suddenly became aware that his body was once again returning to its normal size. Next thing he knew, all were staring at him; for this Bill Gates mansion was reserved for guests who had actually hit puberty. The King of Gates instantly regretted having paddled the boy who was formerly a man, and in his guilt, he gloomily went to sit under the kingdom's blinking neon sign that said "Pedophile." The Queen, on the other hand, glared at Leon with a you've-seen-too-much gleam in her eyes. So she shouted the most severe order that existed in Wonderland…

"**Off with his wenis!**"

Thus began the fateful chase in which all of the characters mentioned in the story, and then some, pursued Leon frantically. The boy who stayed a boy this time ran for his short life and glanced behind him to find that he was being tailed by the Queen and King of Gates, the Sugar Rush Rabbit, Tweedleshiki, the Creedshire cat riding on a vacuum cleaner, DJ Flam Hatter, DJ March Heretic hopping with his pants still at his ankles, the Stoned Faterpillar on a rickshaw being pulled by Simon Cowell, three alligators, and the random white cat. Suddenly, as though by a chance miracle, another wormhole appeared in front of him. Leon jumped in, landed in a pit of molten lava and died, the end.

Naw, something worse happened; he woke up. Nothing around him had changed; Leon was still sitting under the Great Magical Happy Dream tree in the random jolly meadow, the fish in the pond were still belly up, and all of the Apostles of the Stars were standing over him, wearing those disposable pedicure slippers and showing off their fancy toes. Alright, scratch that, so something did change, but it's minor. Ignore it. _Now_. I mean it. You saw _nothing_. Upon seeing his comrades, Leon was about to go into that Dorothy shtick of "and you were there…and you were there…and I don't know what the hell you were doing, but you were there…" However the others decided to stuff him in the car and head home.

…_**And they lived happily ever after.**_


End file.
